Working on Strangelets now. Taking a break. I have some extract of rosemary that I inhale to increase wakefulness. In college I was on a train coming down to the city, sitting across from a well-dressed man in his fifties. I was coming down for a reading and he was coming to see his daughter sing or something--we conversed. I kept yawning. He asked if I was tired; I said yes; he opened his tasteful black briefcase and selected a little unmarked vial, unscrewed the top, and gave it to me: "Sniff this." So I did, and it woke me right up, not like a drug but like a more benevolent version of that time in middle school when the cops took us on a ride-along and put us in a prison cell and let us smell smelling salts, which just shock the shit out of your brain. So when I quit smoking many years later (recently), I bought some extracts of various plants to sniff for late night writing sessions.
Today I wrote some. What is with the weather, it is insane. It's May and it's cold. Doesn't anyone notice? I can't believe this isn't in the news or anything, it's like people just don't want to talk about it. I go outside and feel like I'm going insane. I walked around in the rain. I had lunch with my dad, who is awesome, and who now only eats certain foods and was concerned enough about the "sherry to black bean ratio" in his soup at Union Square Cafe to have a great deal more sherry poured into it. He was in town to see his friend's concert. Later I tried to go to a party but the party was canceled, sort of, and Erin and I had dinner instead.
We were talking about her novel and about mine and I said (about Strangelets), "No one's ever going to publish it, it's embarrassing and puerile, it lacks balance and certain things that narratives need, it's fucked," but when I came home today and read parts of it, I felt comforted, because it made me laugh viciously. I shouldn't, and generally try not to, think about anything in terms of its publishability. Richard Grayson refers to books that get published but go unread as having been "privished." I don't know, I feel okay about everything, everything is fine.